Ciel Hotel
by Bleu Tsuki
Summary: Harry has an appointment with a silver eyed man. Draco has an appointment with a green eyed lover. When they meet, will they remember? Slash, smut, prostitution. Post-war, AU, One-shot.


**A/N: This fic features smut of the slash kind. If you don't like, hit the back button!**

* * *

**He Bought The Mints**

Draco slid the young cashier enough pounds for a tin container of mints. He was determined to mask the tell-tale scent of tobacco from his breath before his anticipated 'appointment.' The cashier handed him the receipt with some muggle change, before sliding the bag over the counter and shouting, "Next!"

Draco shoved the bag deep in his pocket as he walked quickly out of the pharmacy. Hand still in his pocket, he grabbed a cigarette and a lighter and lit up, bringing it to his mouth and taking a long draft. He blew the smoke out into the cool September air, watching the smoke puffs rise and disappear. He repeated this process many times over before he finally felt that his nerves had calmed down enough to continue on his way.

He was heading to the Ciel Hotel.

One would think that Draco Malfoy, sole heir to the Malfoy fortune, would not be living as a muggle in muggle London. But as it so happened, he was. Eight years ago, after Harry had shouted the curse that saved the world, everything had changed. He thought back on it now and smiled bitterly at his own foolishness. Why would he think Harry would even want him once it was all over? Or that he _wouldn't_ be rotting in a cell in Azkaban?

All suspected Death Eaters were tried and sentenced immediately after the final battle, often without a proper jury or an unbiased judge. The result had been many new inmates in Azkaban, and one, unemployed, heartbroken Draco Malfoy.

He couldn't trace back the source of evidence exactly—he or she was especially careful at keeping his or her identity a secret—but it seemed to have 'Potter' all over it, and if anything new had emerged from the war, it was that Harry Bloody Potter was practically a king. Regardless, the testimony was enough to clear Draco of all charges. Draco had escaped the inescapable life sentence in Azkaban, the Dementor's kiss, and even having to turn over all his inheritance to the government. He had been astounded at first; sure that someone was playing a cruel twisted joke, luring him into a state of false security, only to rip his salvation from under his feet. But no notice of repeal ever came, not that Draco had stuck around long to find out. Immediately after his trial, Draco had fled to the most convenient place he could think of: muggle London. It was close to home, highly populated, and the last place anyone would think to look for the Malfoy heir. But even though Draco had left the area, he still kept up to date with the Ministry's plans and new political figures. And most importantly, Harry Potter.

He still had that old article scrunched up in his jeans pocket. The one by Rita Skeeter that declared Harry wanted the She-Weasel back, and was ready to use all his newfound influence in the Wizarding community to take on Blaise Zambini. It was a stupid article really, one that did indeed live up to Skeeter's characteristic bravado and almost no truth in content. Yet for some reason, it made Draco's blood boil. The article unveiled in elaborate detail, the pre-war relationship between Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley.

Going into everything from when they had met, when they started seeing each other as something more than brother and sister, where they went on dates, to how many kisses had been publicly recorded, and where they had intended to honeymoon. (According to Witch Weekly, there was already a fast growing Harry/Ginny fan base.) The article ended rather bluntly with a paragraph on why it had indeed ended, and it seemed that they had broken up over some indescribable argument (according to Rita), and had been missing each other ever since. Rita then went on to explain that her marriage to Zambini was purely from rebound emotions, at not being able to woo Potter during the Wizarding World's time of need.

Draco hadn't realized it then, but now it seemed starkly clear, that the breakup had been around the same time Harry started seeing Draco—mere months before the final battle. Draco wondered if Harry had been on the rebound too. He wondered if maybe, the Harry he had grown to love was all a lie.

But Draco was nothing if not determined, and he was determined to understand his emotions today, if only to shove them back under the rug and never look at them again.

He tossed his still burning cigarette aside, grinding it into the ground with the heel of his expensive leather boot. If meeting in a non-smoking room was the only sacrifice he would have to make today, he would be happy.

.oOo.

Harry groaned as he looked at his watch. He had five minutes to get to muggle London, or he'd be met with a rather pissed, and punctual, blonde. Harry had taken the afternoon off today so that he might actually attempt to get his hair in order. He soon realized it was a lost cause, and swore for wasted time as he grabbed a black cloak from the rack. He then quickly apparated to the Ciel Hotel. _Shit, shit, shit,_ he was going to be late! He raced inside, grabbing the next elevator up, and smashed the 10th floor with his knuckles. It seemed to take an eternity for the elevator to finally get moving, and then an eternity and a half for it to finally arrive at the correct destination. By the time the elevator spit him out at the 10th floor, he was already accompanied by two other hotel guests, riding to a party on the twelfth floor.

He bounded out of the elevator as soon as it dinged open, searching the hall wildly for the room numbered 687. It must be on the left, he thought, just a bit further. As he ran, he extracted the little swiping door key so that he could enter the room without delay. Upon reaching the room, his steps slowed to a stop, and he took several deep breaths so as to appear to have _not_ been running. He shut his eyes, emotion welling behind them as he inserted the card and turned the handle.

"Harry..." the man breathed, before Harry stepped fully into the room.

.oOo.

The room was small, furnished with a king sized bed, two bedside tables, a desk, two windows, and a photograph of a tree.

"Draco..." the raven haired man said softly, blinking as if in surprise, and amazement, and love. "I almost thought...I almost thought you wouldn't be here." He smiled at Draco in a fond, if not somewhat shy way as he approached.

Draco shrugged apathetically. "Well, here I am."

His once platinum blonde hair had matured into a handsome, dirty blonde that he kept well-trimmed and short. It fell in his gray eyes in a way of déjà vu, and Draco couldn't help the onslaught of emotions. _Harry..._his heart bemoaned his all he wanted to do was ravish this man in front of him on the spot.

.oOo.

"What do you want to do?" Harry asked, coming closer to stare into those piercing gray eyes. "I've got the whole of today and tomorrow morning off..."

It seemed like a switch was triggered in the man's mind as his eyes blazed with something akin to hunger. "Well...why don't we start with getting you out of those clothes, gorgeous?" he nearly purred.

Harry couldn't believe it. His voice was the same as in his memories. The same low hum, the same seductive purr...he could _almost believe_ that he and Draco were back on that day...on that day that he had left.

"Al-right." Harry's voice croaked, breaking from sheer emotion, and then from lust. He watched avidly as the gray-eyed man came crawling over to him, reaching up his hands to slide off the heavy brown cloak, before working nimbly on the buttons underneath. Once part of his lean, well-toned chest was exposed, the man began to work on kissing his way down, paying special attention to his little pink nipples. He lapped at them roughly with his tongue until they hardened into little nubs, and even then some, working with his perfectly even teeth to illicit the deepest moans from Harry above.

_Oh...Draco..._

.oOo.

Draco's mouth was on him, on that rock hard chest, and then on those fine, exposed little buds. He quickly set his tongue to work in order to get them hard, using his teeth to bite and nip until the beautiful man groaned out in pleasure.

He knew just the way to do it, swirling his tongue, and placing open-mouthed kisses until the man was trembling beneath him and melting away as butter.

"Dra-a-co!" he moaned, yanking Draco's head up off of his chest, and mashing their lips together. He _needed_ to taste him, _needed _to feel him.

And Draco was more than willing to comply.

His lips were soft and pliant, ready to be nibbled and sucked and bitten until he gave in and opened his jaw just a little bit wider. At the first opportunity, Draco's expertly wicked tongue had slithered its way inside his partner's moist, warm cavern, exploring every inch. Memorizing it.

Harry had once asked him why he took so long to just 'feel around,' and Draco had teasingly replied 'So that I can remember when I fantasize, idiot.' But it had been long, far too long since he had had the chance to memorize _anything._

"Will...you make love to me?" his lover asked with false demure, cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Only once I get the rest of these bothersome clothes off." Draco replied with a soft laugh.

.oOo.

Harry smiled at _his lover_ as he hastened to divulge himself of his own clothes. Harry had slipped out of his trousers, setting them aside next to his cloak and shirt, before stripping himself fully nude. He could feel his lover's eyes on him as he walked to the bed in a pretend show of shyness. He remembered apologizing once for being such an awkward bloke when it came to the bedroom, but Draco had laughed and waved it off, saying that he actually found it quite endearing.

Harry was on the bed now, slightly on his side to fully admire his partner's young, toned body.

"I'm going to fuck you hard." The other hissed huskily, snatching Harry's length firmly in his hand. "But first I'm going to make you just as hard as me." A sly smile was playing on the other's face, and a glance down did indeed verify that he was just as aroused as he claimed. It sent a jolt down Harry's spine to know that someone else wanted him. That someone else _needed_ him..._oh! That was so good!_...The man began to stroke Harry, firm palms and dancing fingertips teasing over the head and slit of his cock, and pumping the rest of him in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Hmmm, more..." Harry moaned loudly as he watched his own member become rapidly engorged with blood. The other smirked at him, continuing to palm Harry with his right hand, and using his left to cup his balls and roll them lightly around in his fingers. "Oh, fuck!" Harry yelled, not even able to prevent himself from thrusting in time with the man's ministration. His cock was weeping now, pitifully to the point of bursting. His mind was exploding in millions of tiny stars. Sticky clear pre-cum leaked from his shaft, before the man suddenly stopped and a wicked grin spread over his devilishly handsome face.

Harry whimpered at the loss of friction, but it soon turned into a yelp of surprise as he was thrown roughly onto his back, with the man clambering on top.

"Fuck me." Harry commanded. The man licked his lips and devoured his lover's mouth.

.oOo.

Draco looked down at his partner, feeling his own cock give a little twitch at that one command. Fuck him. Oh, Draco would like nothing better. It had been so long, _soooo_ long since he had done this.

"In good time," Draco murmured hoarsely, grabbing the jar of lube on the nightstand and sticking two fingers into it. Ordinarily, he would have taken the time to more thoroughly prepare the young man, but as it was, Draco was incredibly desperate to come, and all he could do was extend the courtesy of _at least_ lubricating him. Two slicked fingers circled the green-eyed man with a kind of tenderness, quickly dipping in below to draw a fit of mewlings from the man. He stretched the tight ring of muscle gently, opening him up for him, and carefully probing for the one spot that would always have Harry keening off the bed.

Draco grit his teeth as his cock protested its release. He needed to be inside his lover now. Positioning himself at the puckered hole, Draco slipped his fingers out as his cock tore right in. The man groaned out first in pain then in pleasure, as Draco's thick cock slid in and out, in and out, riding him over and over. Around the fifth thrust, he struck something inside of his partner that made him spasms and clench around him. Gods, did it feel good!

He searched out the man's green eyes, knowing firsthand how one could get so lost in their emerald depths. _'Draco, have I ever told you how much I love to see your eyes as you fuck me?' _Harry's voice floated from a memory, clouding Draco's ears as he stared down into those green jewels. _'Such beautiful gray eyes...' _It seemed backwards then, that Harry found such interest in his boring gray orbs, when in reality, it was Harry's eyes that held Draco captive. And Draco never forgot to tell him.

"Beautiful." Draco murmured, feeling his need ready to burst. "So fucking beautiful..." He held onto his lover's shoulders, digging his nails mercilessly into his back. It was all too much! The sensation of his cock sliding in and out that tight arse, coupled with the other's sweet mews were enough to send Draco flying over the edge. With a grunt, Draco was spilling his seed deep inside the tight arse, a cry of "HARRY!" on his lips.

His mind exploded in ecstasy as he rode wave after wave of pleasure of heart wrenching pleasure. _Soooo gooood._ It was as if a million little fireworks went off at once, blinding his vision in light of the innumerable colors.

His partner came shortly after, shooting his semen onto the bed sheets.

.oOo.

He collapsed on top of Harry, pulling out quickly and immediately rolling over, white cum still coating the now flaccid member.

"That was... Brilliant." Harry breathed, feeling the viscous liquid drip slowly out of his arse.

"_Fucking _brilliant." the man elaborated, closing his eyes. "So...fucking brilliant..." his voice trailed off, ending in a type of yawn. The sound of deepened breathing.

Harry glanced at his partner, sighing in disappointment that his partner had, once again, fallen asleep immediately after sex.

He didn't know what he expected _exactly._ Maybe it was a nice conversation of 'How do you do?' or 'I love you,' but those were mere wishes, mere fantasies he could never obtain. His partner never was much of a talker.

Silence.

Harry stared up at the cream colored ceiling, remembering...remembering things and feelings, and resting in a bed with Draco by his side, and arm draped over his chest. Harry brushed some blonde hair from his partner's face, before quietly sliding out of bed and going over to his neat stack of clothes. Perhaps he'd just leave. It had been eight years, but dreams could only last so long.

He slipped his wand out from his cloak, muttered a quick cleaning charm when he was sure the other was dead-fast asleep, and quickly redressed himself. Without a glance goodbye, or a simple blown kiss, Harry exited the room, knowing John would find the money in the morning.

.oOo.

Harry sighed once more, glancing around the old hotel. There was no denying it. He was still stuck on Draco, even after eight years. He had tried to track down the now cleared-of-charges-ex-Death-Eater, but even his Auror capabilities had their limits. If Draco truly did not want to be found, then there was no way he could trace him without alerting the whole department, (and by extension the Ministry and the Wizarding community) of his personal motivations. He had no intention of compromising either of their privacies, however, and even if Draco had taken down all of his anti-tracking spells, Harry would stay away.

He wouldn't even know because he wouldn't even check. Draco was through with him, had been for eight years, leaving Harry Potter stuck in the past, stuck with a blonde and gray-eyed prostitute, and stuck with his memories. He barely even noticed the other young man brushing past him at the elevator, sleeve against sleeve, until the other dropped something, or rather, froze as if he dropped something.

"Wh-?" The man paused, spinning and looking for whatever he had dropped. Messy blonde hair whipped around his face, and hung down as he searched the floor. Funny, the voice was familiar almost...

_'Harry! (Panting) Harry, oh gods...I'm going to come! HARRY!'_

...Harry shook his head, bending down and snatching the little plastic bag that had fallen down the hall. It must have flown when the other was running, Harry concluded.

"Oh, I think you dropped these." Harry said softly, fingers curled around a small pharmacy bag.

The blonde seemed to sway for a second before reaching out for it. But Harry didn't offer it back. He didn't know why he didn't, just that something about him...it...something was very familiar. He didn't let go.

When it was clear that the raven-haired man wasn't going to give it back, the other shrugged it off.

"Keep it, I'll just buy more." he murmured, walking past Harry, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. He didn't know why he was speaking so softly, or why he felt the need to be kind or gentle. Just that he...the man...was familiar almost...

"Aren't you taking the lift?" Harry blurted out as the man continued to walk. He paused as if considering, but then shook his head.

"I'll take the stairs."

The elevator door opened with a bright ding, before Harry mechanically walked inside. He looked at the bag in his hand once he had pushed the button for the Lobby, and felt the tin container of mints in the bag. They rattled inside its metal container, reminding Harry of rain, pelting down on slick wet skin...Draco had used to love mints, having taken them up once he started smoking to deal with his stress. The North Breeze company, Harry recalled, always curious as to why he never deviated from that one company. Draco had once replied that Malfoy's deserved the best, even when it came down to mints. They had laughed; Harry stared at the bag. He had a sudden, inexplicable urge to glimpse the label. His fingers ran over it—over the bag—fingernails tapping the hard outer shell. _Harry, let it be, it's in the past..._

He reached inside the bag, feeling the seam where the top meshed with the bottom, like two compatible bodies...breathing together, moving in time, the heat, the passion...

He couldn't do it. He slipped the bag in his pocket again and waited. Down, down, down. The numbers at the top of the elevator displayed the levels in dull orange squares: 6...5...4.. Should he look? What did he have to lose? That blonde hair, that voice... _'Harry...Harry...' _But then, if it was? What would he do? Would he pursue him, only to sweep back dirty blonde hair to reveal a different set of eyes. Blue? or green? or perhaps another shade of gray? 3...2...1...RC. Ding!

He was still petrified inside the elevator as the doors slid open, revealing a group of impatient guests. Knowing he had to get a move on, Harry exited the lift, and swallowed. He slipped the bag out again, grabbed the mints with his hand, and shut his eyes. But he could already envision it: The oval packaging, the blue, North Breeze label. He could see it on his bedside table, stacked on top of a box of cigarettes and a jar of lube. He was breathing heavily, breathing in the scent of slowly burning candles and fresh rose petals that weren't there. His eyes snapped open.

_Fresh Kiss_ was displayed in red, not blue.

He dropped the mints back into the bag and exited the building. Sadness pounding in his heart and relief flooding through his brain. It was a blessing really that the man wasn't Draco, he tried convincing himself, what would he think? Harry Potter buying a blonde-haired, gray-eyed whore? A blessing really...

As he passed a nearby trashcan, he tossed the bag in without a second thought, the metal connecting with the inside of the barrel with a dull clang.

Harry sighed as he whipped out his wand, turning around once more before he apparated away... He saw a pair of disbelieving stormy gray eyes, a mop of blonde hair and a silent whisper of something on beautiful pink lips. And then he was gone in a haze of blackened memories, reappearing moments later in his little flat near Diagon Alley. Without a further thought, he headed towards the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a generous amount of firewhiskey to calm his nerves. As he drank, he could almost imagine the voices becoming clearer,—

_'Harry...I need you...miss you...love you...remember me...'_

But he washed each plead down with a long drought of the sanguine liquid, until nothing surrounded him but the dull thud of his own heart. _It's useless to remember what the other forgets..._tears streaming down his face, emotions swirling in a maelstrom of yes and no, love, hate, denial, hope, forgetfulness.

It did not matter that he had won. That he was head of the Aurors. That he was rich and praised as a king.

He wanted Draco. He wanted to forget. He _needed_ it. Inebriated and overcome with emotion, he reached for his wand, wondering vaguely if anyone would find him in the morning, completely incoherent and blubbering as uselessly as Lockhart...

.oOo.

He turned the holly and phoenix feather wand over and over in his hands, wondering that if he awoke, if he'd still attach some sort of importance to his very first wand. To the first sign that he was not just a freak. That magic was a gift. He thought all this, nearly saw the gray eyes that stared hazily at his naked body, a whisper of 'good morning, love.' as he raised the wand to his temple. _Draco..._

But just at that moment, when his mouth had formed the 'O' or the 'A' (he still wasn't sure which) his front door burst open, and appearing within it, was the very man he wanted to say good-bye to the most.

Tears glistened on Harry's cheeks, streaming down his curved chin, and dripping onto his white shirt with a little 'pat' sound. He was safe, he was safe...

"_Obliviate_."

And a bang like a gunshot blew Harry from his seat, and he crumbled to the floor unconscious.

_.oOo._

_Expelliarmus!_ Draco shouted inwardly, hand outstretched uselessly towards the broken man. There was a bright light, brilliant in fact, flashing like a cannon with twice the sound. Harry was blasted from his seat from the force of the spell, and fell to a heap on the floor. A lopsided smile was on his face, eyes shut peacefully in unconsciousness. His wand had flown to the ground by Draco's feet, but he made no move to grab it.

Draco brought his hand down, regarding it with a mixture of awe and fear. Never before had he done wandless magic like that. Never. He could feel the raw magical energy receding within him even now, disappearing as if it was never there. But the evidence was right in front of him.

His eyes flickered back to Potter, cheeks flushed from alcohol, tears blotting his still handsome visage...and Draco fell; fell as if a stone had struck him in a precise spot on his back. He collapsed onto the wooden floor, shocked, shudders racking his thin frame.

_Harry had tried to forget...he had tried to forget..._me.

He hadn't known why it was that once he exited the hotel, he had a compulsion to apparate. He didn't know why it was that he followed the tall, dark-haired man outside, watching heartbroken as he tossed out the mints with a clang. He didn't know why he froze there, in the middle of the pavement, just thinking that if he had looked, just one more second, felt around the bag till his hands brushed the edges of shiny white paper, he would have found the receipt that said, "Draco Potter."

But that was then...

Draco willed himself to rise, lifting shaking legs on shaking wills, glancing around the flat with nostalgic regrets, and looked down at himself, feet planted numbly in the doorway. And slowly, he took his first step forward in eight years.

* * *

**Ha! I bet you didn't expect that did you? Well, I meant the prostitution. Sorry for all the green-eyed, silver-eyed stuff, but I hope that you see how it was essential for the twist? Please Review! I don't usually write...this type of stuff, so any feedback is extremely appreciated! :)**

**BT**


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